


Tidings

by HumanWrites



Category: Alternian Ancestors, Homestuck
Genre: Sad, Slavery, Violence, dark themes, rape/non-con mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumanWrites/pseuds/HumanWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suppose I'm not much better off now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidings

The gentle brushes of distant fingertips are things I have longed for too often. The soft placement of caring hands on my back, both calloused from the heavy burdens we all must face, and smooth with more love than the ocean could ever give away. Like tides, I would say that is a good metaphor, everything corrodes, washes away, withdraws. All I am hoping for is for the return of what the currents took away from me.

I no longer can perceive the timeline in which I have been put, too long has been my stay upon this ship without any means of grasping such a concept as time. However, I can still remember some things, clearer than the vast emptiness I find myself hurtling through every relentless moment. 

I can remember the shackles that would clash against my skin, rubbing raw and cold even when they were so close to my body...though...in those days heat wasn't something I retained. I can remember the integration of shame and sorrow I was forced through until I believed every word and answered to the shouts of the number "22". I can remember the nights when the felt scratch of the damp blankets was preferable to anything, even freedom. I can remember the suns that beat down onto my shaded, sheltered, life. I can remember how painfully ironic shock collars were. 

I remember the emptiness when I was lying on the ground bloody from being beaten. Beaten because the only way to get the thoughts of suicide out of my muddled and trapped brain was to make it rain golden. I remember the whispers of rouge guards that took advantage of others right next to me before simply rolling over to do the same to me, to tell me how disgusting my malnourished figure was. I remember swallowing dirt and blood from getting clubbed because they said they wouldn't kill the boy if I took the punishment. I remember how the pads of my feet were caked and my hands shaky and broken. I remember how I was. I remember being broken.

I suppose I'm not much better off now.

Sometimes I wish maybe I hadn't met him, that the jerk hadn't taken pity on me. Maybe then this wouldn't hurt so much. Because as much as I remember the feelings from my past, I remember even more of the events with him.

The hooded figure who had snuck into my camp. The boy with red blood who had cut open his hand so I knew that he wasn't a mirage. The mutant beauty who had dragged me lifeless through a field of tall grass. I remember him.

I recall the pattern of stitches his mother, he called her that, sewed into a wound in my abdomen. The warm hands of promise always pressing at my forehead and combing my hair when I was awake. Time passed, but it was simply oblivion shooting by, all I knew was that he laughed the first time I talked. He didn't say my voice was funny though, he told me that "no, you're not in heaven", before I fell back asleep, not believing him.

Because...why would anyone bother with me? An easy target among the majority. A simplistic sort of doll for people to play with. I remember wondering why this fucking angel had bothered with the likes of an abomination as myself. But he had, the bright-blooded boy had bothered. No one ever bothered.

I remember his pained expressions whenever I would flinch at movements. I remember the slight sorrowful lift of his eyebrows when I told him I was sorry. I remember the things he would list off of why I shouldn't be sorry, all whilst letting me warm from an indulgent embrace. I remember his laughs and his smiles and the brilliance he possessed. He was wonderful...precious.

But...as I learned all things must end. You must be brought to your best friend's execution. You must he chained to a post, wrapped around it and debilitated so you can watch him die. You must listen to the screams of the ones he loved, you, listening silently as gold tears trail down the skin of your bare and exposed neck. You must listen as arrows fly and impale themselves deeper in him. You must listen to his anguish. You must hear the slump of his body rattle breaking chains. You must watch his last breath and the shudder of his body. You must get on your feet as you are ordered because all good things come to an end.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably shitty and has mistakes...apologies...I was feeling empty and I needed some emotionally distant Psii. -C


End file.
